


so we settle softly under heavy blows

by CherFleur



Series: SW prompts [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Can be seen as Pre-Slash, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Sharing a Bed, Trust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27164999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherFleur/pseuds/CherFleur
Summary: Agen's belief in the Force was perhaps the strongest thing about him, no matter his skill with a lightsaber or thermal detonator, no matter his sturdy body and gritted teeth.Perhaps his compassion was a close second, but he had needed to blunt it on occasion.His faith was, however, endless.
Relationships: Agen Kolar & Jon Antilles
Series: SW prompts [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971988
Comments: 11
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

Rarely, did Agen feel shock.

Sometimes he was surprised or startled just the same, but he’d never been stopped cold with shock. Not like this, not with his heart pinching in his chest with a mixture of grief and hope. Not with the Force quietly singing joy and possibility in his bones.

Pulsing in his skin.

Because for all the times people had reported Jon dead, Agen had only believed it once. When they all felt the searing scream of silence, where before there had been a steady hum of light on the edges of the galaxy.

The loss of talented, good Jedi such as the Legendary Masters had been a blow to the order. A blow to life itself, and especially in the Outer Rim.

Agen had grieved them with his Master, as he had grieved Tan not long before. 

But now, in the distance, somewhere hidden and weak in this city, there was Jon Antilles. He could not tell if the others had survived for all that Fay was a supernova, Agen had spent the most time with Jon.

With his friend, who was one of the few who didn’t find Agen’s belief overwhelming.

He was here for a completely different task, but now he had another thing to add to his agenda.

Find Jon, that cool presence that flickered weakly, and help him. To find out what had happened to the others, if there was anything they needed.

Agen had always respected their desire to stay out of the war; had rejected being in command of his own contingent of clones as well. He understood their worries intimately, their desire to help those who needed them the most, even if he followed the wisdom of the Council.

In this, he would respect them as well.

So he took a breath and stepped into a side alley to close his eyes and focus. To reach out for that familiar Force presence and announce himself.

If Jon curled away, Agen would leave him, content to know he lived even if he ached to see his friend. To allow him that choice to stay hidden in obscurity as the Jedi of the Outer Rim always had. If he didn’t…

A familiar glimmer, a flicker of surprise and uncertainty that shifted to relief, to fondness and welcome. Jon felt weakened, but no less certain in the Force.

Relief slipped with joy in his chest and Agen let out a quiet breath before he made his decision.

Finding Jon and aiding him would come first. Besides, missions were accomplished faster with a partner, and they had always worked well together.

Master T’ra should be pleased with his foresight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This second chapter was prompted by Mya on discord!

After finding Jon, Agen had spent an equal amount of time taking care of his mission and avoiding comm calls from T’ra while caring for him.

She’d always had a sense for when he’d stepped into something potentially complicated, if not dangerous, and he had never been much for evading her questions. It would be easier once Jon was more healed, when Agen’s worry was assuaged by the health of his friend restored.

As it was, for now, he shared the bunk in the ship that Jon had commandeered with him, arms wrapped around a too cold body still weakened. Agen’s back faced the doorway in a gesture he’d been somewhat relieved to know had eased some of the tension in Jon’s exhausted face. Still solid for all that his Force strength was thready with pulling himself back from the brink of death and sending the others away in a burst of reckless power.

He smelled like ash and human skin, saltier than a Zabrak, his hair shorter than Agen had ever seen it, growing back in from being burned off.

Like his skin had been.

There were still the scars he was familiar with, still the marks of a life hard lived by the will of the Force and the desire to be _good._ Jon might not have that thick reassuring strength back yet, but he’d slowly and steadily come back to himself the more that Agen had tended to him. The more that he had shared his strength with him, meditating with his weakened but never fragile friend and comrade.

Jon released a soft breath against Agen’s throat, contentment and trust radiating out from his form clothed in Agen’s spares, and the Zabrak closed his eyes. Tilting his head down to press his nose into that tickling hair, more textured than his own where it slid without bounds over his shoulders.

A lightsaber callused hand that had healed those calluses back into place before even his nails and hair – which spoke of his priorities in training – was loosely wrapped around one lock. In the week that he’d made this mission stretch by finely combing for any remaining Separatist allied slavers. He’d always been what some had called ‘relentlessly thorough’ so it wasn’t suspicious that he had decided to roust them all.

Low in his chest, Agen released a contented rumble, meant to soothe and reassure young Zabrak, a familial sound.

Brother Jedi, they were, and Agen felt a knot in his own chest ease at the soft sound of comfort Jon released, pressing his forehead to Agen’s collarbone. The first time he had released this comforting sound it had been instinct.

He’d found Jon swaying against the hatch of the ship in ill-fitting clothing, skin shiny and new, heart a thready sound and breaths wheezing. Agen had lifted him into his arms and rushed him back inside after Jon assured him his injuries were mostly taken care of, he was simply experiencing Force exhaustion. Jon had rested his head on Agen’s shoulder, and his miraculously callused hand had gotten tangled in hair and the cloth over his heart.

It had been instinct, and it had surprised them both, but the Force often worked through base instinct, and Agen had always followed the will of the Force with absolute trust.

Now, Jon was hazily basking in Agen’s freely given strength, gathering himself for the day soon that Agen would have to leave and report to the Council once again. When he would no longer be able to put off the comm calls from Master T’ra and would have to start figuring out how to find the others.

Jon had sent Nico and Fay to the same place, he was sure, though Knol was somewhere else. He had wearily asked that Agen not inform the Council of their survival, had vague ideas of working in the background that it would be better that Agen didn’t know the specifics of. As he had respected their decision not to join the war effort directly, he respected Jon’s wishes in this as well, Jon’s relief like pressing on a an old bruise.

The Force didn’t have a sense of urgency to it about their situation, so for now, Agen made sure that Jon rested.

There were other times when they would both need to press through injury and exhaustion.

This wasn’t one of them.

So Agen lay still with Jon warming slowly in his arms, rumbling deep in his chest to smooth lines from a tired, scarred face, his hair tangled in Jon’s fingers. Nose pressed into messy hair that would soon enough be long and carelessly tied back unless Agen took care of it, he closed his eyes and meditated.

To trust in each other, was to trust in the Force.

Agen had never doubted the will of the Force, even if he didn’t always understand what it tried to tell him in the moment.

He wouldn’t start now.


End file.
